


cruisin' through the sky

by allapplesfall



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Flying, Gen, charlie's gender is fuck gender and i for one am proud, i'd die for maisie richardson-sellers send tweet, no plot just the girls (and charlie) getting to hang out and fly!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allapplesfall/pseuds/allapplesfall
Summary: Charlie, Zari, Kendra, and Amaya go flying. Well, first they meet (and re-meet) each other, andthenthey go flying.
Relationships: Charlie & Zari Tarazi & Kendra Saunders & Amaya Jiwe, Charlie (DC's Legends of Tomorrow)/Kendra Saunders (past), Charlie/Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	cruisin' through the sky

**Author's Note:**

> listen!! i finally decided to write something completely and unadulteratedly happy!! i love these women/nonbinary gods and they deserved it!
> 
> set in a vague peri/post-s5ish era where charlie stayed with the team and sara is still blind because fuck "disability fixing" narratives. martin stein is not dead bc my house my rules. 
> 
> title vaguely ripped from "night drive" by ari lennox

“Wait, wait.” Zari waggles her zollipop in the air. “I know I’m still, like, new, but who’s that?”

She turns to Charlie, sitting beside her on the steps to the parlor.

Charlie shrugs. “I’ve got no clue,” she admits. Her mouth quirks up. “You see the look she was giving the boss, though?”

Zari raises her eyebrows. “Mm. More like the way Sara was looking at _her_. Or, not…looking.” She considers. “Emoting.”

“That’s Birdie,” Mick grunts. Of the three of them, he’s on the highest step, half leaning against the edge of the wall with a beer in hand. She has to tip her face back, slightly, to see him. “She dumped the boss and Haircut, ran off with her _soulmate_.”

Charlie playfully bats his shin with the back of her hand. “Soulmate? Thought you didn’t believe in that shit. ‘Lazy romance writing,’ and all.”

“Didn’t say I came up with it.” He takes a long pull of his beer.

Popping her zollipop back in her mouth, Zari looks over the new woman again. She’s definitely pretty, with incredible cheekbones and loose curls, small freckles dusting her nose. Her outfit, a ribbed crop top, leather jacket and a drop necklace dangling down the v-neck, screams of the tens. Zari wore something similar to throwback party a couple years ago. She can respect a vintage look.

“Hold on a tick,” Charlie says. She leans forward, resting her forearms on her thighs. “No…”

“You know this woman?”

Charlie lets out an incredulous breath. “Knew her, maybe. Bloody hell.” She looks to Mick. “Birdie? Has she got wings?”

Mick tips his beer in an _uh-huh_ kind of way.

With a grin, Charlie pushes herself up. “Oi, Chay-ara!”

The woman pauses whatever conversation she’d been in with Sara and Behrad and turns, surprised. “Yeah?”

“You don’t look a _day_ over four thousand.”

“Uh…” The woman glances back at Sara, unsure. “Hi?”

“Aw, come on, it’s me.” For a brief moment, Charlie’s body flares with golden light, and _wow_. For the record, Zari would like to say that knowing she can shapeshift and _seeing Charlie shapeshift_ are totally different experiences. She drops three inches in height, gains two inches in shoulder width, and her skin pools through with golden undertones. Her hair hangs down in coils. She extends her arms, broad grin the same on a different face. “Yeah?”

The woman’s mouth parts in shock. “Clotho?”

“The one and only. And would you get a load of you? All 21st century and everything, brilliant.”

“Hold on,” Sara cuts in. “You _know her_?”

“Oh, the most beautiful high priestess of the thirteenth dynasty?” She winks. “We’ve met.”

The woman rolls her eyes, a smile tempting her mouth.

At this point, Zari stands, feeling childish sitting at everyone’s waist-level. She walks purposefully to Behrad’s free side. When he notices her, she sends him laser eyes, silently demanding him to explain what the hell is going on. Beautiful woman? Priestess? Dynasty? Four thousand _years_?

Behrad rocks back on his heels. “Oh, right,” he whispers, drawing it out. “Catch you up later.”

She glares at him.

“-name’s Kendra,” the woman is saying. Up close, her eyebrows look even more perfect. “Clotho, how…?”

“Charlie, actually. My name’s changed, too,” Charlie says. She shifts back into her usual face. “And this lot Hotel California’d me a couple years back, now I keep forgetting why I want to leave.”

“Oh, please,” grumbles Sara.

Kendra trails her eyes over each of them. “That…” She nods. “That tracks.”

“Hi,” Zari says, people voice activated. Pretty rude of all of them to not even introduce her, if she’s being honest. “I’m Zari. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Kendra says, uncertain.

Zari smiles pleasantly. “So, you’re an…old friend?”

She ignores Behrad’s embarrassed plea to the heavens.

“Yeah, I guess. Rip recruited me with the original team. After we beat Savage, I needed something…different.”

“Mm-hmm, a woman who knows how to follow what she wants.” She points her zollipop approvingly. “I admire that.”

“Thanks?”

Zari smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“So, _Kendra_ ,” Charlie says, before the silence can stretch too long. “What brings you around here?”

“Oh, just visiting. I’ve, uh.” She looks at Sara. “Is it cool if I…?”

“Yeah, sure.” Sara, who at some point slipped her left hand into Behrad’s, waves her right one with bravado. “Go for it.”

“I’ve been blind before. So when Sara told me about what’s going on, I figured I’d stop by. I didn’t have to worry about screenreaders or anything, back then, but some things don’t change.”

“Apparently, I need to invest in safety pins.”

Zari purses her lips. “Sorry, safety pins?”

“And a vacuum. And tights. And…”

“And you need to get in the habit of putting things back in their place.”

Sara grimaces.

Kendra levels a look at Charlie. “I lived with her for two months. She’s a disaster.”

Charlie’s lips curl in glee.

“Rude,” says Sara.

“I mean,” says Behrad, “you could just start asking for help when you need it instead.”

Sara glares in the vague direction of his chest, though she doesn’t drop his hand. “Traitor.”

“Anyway,” Kendra continues, “I was about to head back to Central City, but…”

With her usual cockiness, Charlie takes a step forward. “Now you’ve realized there’s a certain old mate aboard?”

“Sure,” Kendra says. “Though you do know, I’m not Chay-ara. New life, lots of memories, new me.”

Charlie slings an arm around her shoulders. “None of us are the same! That’s the fun of it. No expectations, promise.”

Kendra smiles. “Yeah?”

“Let’s just have a laugh or two. Aw, remember when we used to go flying? ”

“Itjtawy from the sky? The shifting sands, the sunsets, the stars….”

“Nothing beats that,” Charlie declares, eyes bright with nostalgia.

“So why don’t you guys, like, go back?” asks Zari. Seems pretty obvious to her. “Aren’t you in a time machine?”

“Huh,” says Charlie. She mulls the suggestion over, clearly into it.

Sara sighs. “I don’t mind you two taking the jumpship. Just promise not to break it.”

Charlie glances at Kendra. “What do you say?”

Kendra tilts her head. “I’m in,” she says slowly. “Yeah, why not?”

“That’s the spirit.” Pulling her arm off Kendra, Charlie turns her attention to Zari. “What about you, Z?”

Zari blinks, blindsided and thrilled by the thought of being included. “Me?”

“Sure! It’s your idea, innit?”

“But I can’t fly!” She pauses as realization washes over her. “Behrad, can we fly?”

“Oh, uh.” Behrad scratches the side of his head. “Yeah. Didn’t we do that yet?”

“We most certainly did _not_.”

“Why don’t you learn on the go, then?” Charlie asks. “We can teach you.”

“I don’t want to intrude….”

“Nah,” she says, taking a step backward, still facing them. “C’mon! We’ve got you.”

Kendra hugs Sara goodbye, the two of them exchanging some final words. Zari turns to Behrad, who unfastens the totem and passes it to her.

“This’ll be fun,” he says, confident. “You’ll have a blast.”

Zari fiddles with the bracelet in one hand. “Listen, I’m very competent, and I know that. But I don’t know how to fly. And Charlie’s your friend. Shouldn’t you go?”

“Nah, Charlie invited _you_. Hey, this is like, the reunion tour of Legends who can fly, minus the boys.” He pauses. “Hold up.”

“Yes?”

“Okay, so no dudes invited, that’s me, Ray, Jax and Stein….”

“But of _all_ the Legends who can fly,” Sara chimes in, “you’re still missing one.”

Zari looks from one of them to the other. Behrad, his chin grossly scruffy from a day too long without shaving, is holding two fingers up with his I-have-a-stupid-idea grin. Sara, staring off a little to the right of them, smirks with her arms crossed.

“What?” she asks. She points her zollipop from one of them to the other. “What’s this?”

“Yeah,” Kendra agrees. “What exactly are you thinking, Sara?”

“What’s the hold up?” Charlie calls from the door.

“There's one more Legend who can fly,” Behrad says. “She’s one of my best friends, and it’d be tight if you met her, Z. Seriously.”

“Who?”

He grins.

Zari frowns. “Come on, I haven’t been this over suspense since the power went out for three hours before the 2036 Tony’s. Who is it?”

-

“Amaya, Amaya!” Foyinsola calls, bursting into the hearth house. Her little feet patter against the mats until she drops beside her.

Amaya blinks, looking up from where she’d been tending the glowing embers of the fire. The little girl’s face, round with excitement, peers into hers.

“Whoa, there, little one,” Amaya says. She shakes her head, resting a hand on the girl’s small shoulder. “When are you going to learn that the nighttime is for sleeping?”

“I’m not that little anymore,” Foyinsola objects. In a way, she’s right—her head reaches Amaya’s shoulder as they sit, and her words don’t fall quite as clumsily as they used to. “And I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too loud.” She smiles. “And you’re always up, so nighttime isn’t sleeping for everybody. ”

Amaya sighs. “I can heat us both some milk.”

“But, Amaya, I _saw_ something.”

“Oh, yeah?” Amaya searches the edges of the round building for the bag of evaporated milk. Warm light flickers against the branches that make up the wall. “What did you see?”

“Your spaceship!”

Amaya pauses. “Sola, the spaceship is just a story. You saw a shooting star, or a meteor.”

“But it landed outside. I saw it!”

As she speaks, the hairs on Amaya’s neck start to rise. The grass outside shushes in the breeze, sometimes, but tonight the air sits hot and still. The animals that live around her village know better than to make such rustling noises in the dark.

“Sola,” she murmurs. “Hide by the cassava pot.”

When the little girl stares, confused at her sudden seriousness, Amaya lifts her up underneath the arms. “Pot. Now.”

The girl scrambles to obey, ducking behind the large earthen pot on the right side of the room. Amaya places a hand on her totem, letting the power sap away the muzziness of night, before stepping out into the center of Zambesi.

Darkness pools over the village. The light filtering out from the hearth house barely reaches the edges of the field. Activating her totem, letting the ashe of an owl bloom in the air, Amaya feels her eyesight sharpen until she can make out every blade of dry grass, every leaf on every scrub tree at the perimeter.

“This village,” she calls, scanning the terrain, “is under my protection. Come out with your hands raised.”

Her sight lands on a familiar clunky winged vehicle—the jumpship, Foyinsola was _right_ —just as three figures stumble out of the field, hands to the sky.

“Please don’t hurt us,” one of them says, voice breathy and high. “That would seriously suck.”

“Sara?” Amaya asks, even as she can see evidence to the contrary. This woman has darker hair, darker skin, and a flashy outfit Sara wouldn’t be caught dead in.

“No, actually,” says another. “But she did send us? Kind of?”

The last one mostly just looks a cross between guilty and turned on, which honestly wouldn’t be that unusual, except:

“You have my face.”

The person winces. “Yeah…sorry about that.”

Her face _and_ a British accent.

Tensing again—are these imposters?—a new wave of her energy fills her totem. Before she can act, however, and put the intruders into a position where she can be sure they can’t harm her people, a clear pulse rings through every cell in her body. She feels like someone just struck a gong against her soul. Her totem glows, and the jewel on the first woman’s wrist shines a bright red.

“You have the air totem,” Amaya says. Worst case scenarios immediately start running through her mind—Behrad shot and killed in a Vietnamese jungle, Behrad lying still in the med bay, Behrad bleeding out on the floor of the Waverider corridor.

“What the….” The woman gapes down at her wrist, face daubed in red light.

“Is Behrad alright?”

She blinks, fingers fluttering automatically. “Oh, yeah, Behrad’s fine. Totally fine, obnoxiously fine.”

Amaya frowns. “Who are you people?”

“Maybe that’s a question you wouldn’t mind us answering inside,” the middle woman suggests, words gentle. She’s looking past Amaya.

Turning, Amaya sees Foyinsola peeking out from the doorway. “Sola,” she chides. “I told you to hide.”

The girl ducks her head.

The Anansi totem goes dark around Amaya’s neck. She looks at the three new arrivals. Calling to the ancestors for strength, she makes a decision. “Off to bed, little one,” she says. “Now.”

“But–”

“I’ll tell you the whole story tomorrow night, I promise. Bed, now, go.”

“Okay,” the girl pouts. With a final longing look at the foreigners, she traipses through the village back towards her parents’ house.

“Cute kid,” the not-Amaya says, teeth flashing in a small grin. “Troublemaker, is she?”

Amaya stares back, uncharmed. “Insomniac.”

A few people stick their heads out of their houses, looking at her askance for the light show that no doubt roused them. She waves them back to sleep with an apologetic smile.

To the visitors, she says, “I’ll put on some tea.”

-

“Behrad’s sister,” Amaya echoes, setting the water to boil. “That’s why you look familiar. He used to show me videos of you, sometimes. You have some type of beast—a dragon?”

Kendra blinks. A _dragon?_ She looks at the woman next to her with new eyes.

Zari nods, folding her manicured nails on top of one another. “Mithra, yes. And I really like your headwrap, by the way. Cute pattern.”

Absentmindedly, Amaya raises a hand to her gele.

“You’re the dragon girl,” Kendra realizes. “From that crazy theme park the Legends built last year.”

“Dragon girl,” Zari agrees, sounding well-practiced, “that’s me.”

Amaya frowns. “Theme park?”

“Heyworld,” Charlie explains. “We had this whole crackpot idea that we could make people not be afraid of monsters anymore if we put them in a glorified carnival. It worked, somehow, though I heard poor Ogre is always getting demands to sing in the queue at the shops.”

Amaya stares at her, stiff. Kendra’s never met her before, but she gets the feeling Amaya isn’t quite comfortable with the whole sharing-a-face thing. Having looked into the faces of different versions of herself before, Kendra can empathize.

“That was Nathaniel’s idea,” Amaya finally says. “Wasn’t it.”

“Sure was,” Charlie confirms, at the same time as Zari says:

“ _Nathaniel?”_ She pulls back. “Ew.”

Amaya glances at her. “It’s his name.”

“And it’s….” Zari nods. “Very nice, yeah, very nice.”

For a moment, Kendra thinks Amaya’s going to be insulted. Then she smiles. “That’s part of what made calling him that so fun.”

Kendra swallows a grin. She doesn’t know Nate, but she thinks she’d like to get to know Amaya. Between her upright posture, the experienced set of her brow, and the slender but corded muscles of her arms exposed by her sleeveless dress, she resembles any number of warrior women Kendra’s known throughout her lifetimes. And a sense of humor definitely doesn’t hurt.

Amaya turns her gaze to Kendra. “You look familiar, too. Have we met?”

Kendra shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. I was one of Rip Hunter’s original recruits, I think I left right before you came aboard.”

Amaya narrows her eyes. “Keana?”

“Close. Kendra.”

“Right, Kendra. Jax and Sara spoke highly of you.” Amaya smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Kendra smiles back. “You too. And I saw Jax yesterday, actually. He’s doing good. His wife just gave birth to the cutest little baby ever.”

“Jax, a father.” Amaya takes out enough cups for all of them. “ _Wow_. I miss him.”

“Trust me, I have lots of pictures.” Lots might even be an understatement; between the photos she’s taken herself and the ones in the media section of her texts with Professor Stein, the baby must be hogging half her storage by now. 

“Oh, I’d love that.” Amaya mixes some kind of soluble powder into the pot—apparently ‘tea’ is a loose descriptor—until the water goes dark. Then she starts to pour. “I don’t miss cell phones, but I do miss phone cameras.”

“No phones,” Zari registers, accepting the offered cup. “You actively chose to stay in a time period with no phones. You are the strongest person alive.”

Amaya’s dark eyes twinkle. She hands Kendra her tea, and Kendra thanks her.

Finally, Amaya sets a cup in front of Charlie. Clearly, she’d been forcing herself to get through the pleasantries before addressing her real interest. “So.”

“Hey,” says Charlie, flicking a few fingers in a subdued greeting. She has her knees brought near her chest at angles, arms slung around them to keep them in place.

Glancing between them makes Kendra feel like she’s squeezed into the thin pane of a mirror.

“Why do you look like me?”

“And how’d you know you don’t look like me, then?”

Amaya fixes her with a look.

Charlie drops her gaze to the fire. “I’m a shapeshifter, alright? Then I had a run-in with the Legends. John Constantine trapped me in this body and took away my powers.”

“A shapeshifter?”

Charlie nods her head grudgingly. Golden light briefly outlines her body, and by the time Kendra blinks away the spots in her vision she’s staring at some white dude with a badly tied tie and an obnoxious beige trench coat.

“Aye,” says blond Charlie, “I’m John Constantine and I’m a right git. Was trying to send poor Charlie to Hell, till she made the unfortunately convincing argument that she deserves basic respect.”

Zari leans forward. “Wow,” she says, “you’re good at him.”

Charlie-as-who-Kendra-assumes-is-John grins. “Yeah? You into it?”

“John without John’s personality? Mm.”

Ignoring their flirting, Amaya shakes her head. “But you can shapeshift. You’re not trapped.”

Charlie shifts back to her normal self—into Amaya’s body. “After a while,” she says, “I got my powers back.”

“Then why stay in my form?”

Charlie bites her lip, eyes on her cooling tea. “Listen,” she finally says. “My true form would sear all of you to little bits. I can’t be that around the Legends, not ever. When I met them, I had the face of some toothpaste advert on the tube. And before that… I had whatever had enough teeth, enough spikes, to keep me alive. But I’ve had your face for the longest I’ve ever had any face beside my real one, and…” She shrugs. “I like who I see now when I look in the mirror. I like who I’ve become.”

And Kendra recalls the Clotho Chay-ara knew. She had the same joking exterior, same tough no-tears-no-fuss attitude, same blatant disregard for rules.

She never touched anyone, though. Not in the same easy way Charlie does. Never wrapped an arm around Kendra’s shoulder like Charlie did on the Waverider, never threaded her arm through someone else’s like she had Zari’s on their way to the jumpship. She threw her walls up in the hazy minutes after sex, brushing off any mush or feelings talk with a wisecrack or hasty exit. She had acquaintances, friendly party companions and happy hookups, but not real friends.

 _None of us are the same_ , Charlie had said. And now: _I like who I’ve become_.

Kendra thinks she gets it.

“Besides,” Charlie adds with an impish grin, both fingers pointing to her own face, “you’re not exactly lacking in the looks department.”

Kendra and Zari catch each other’s eyes. _Agreed_.

Amaya’s lip twitches. She considers Charlie with an even curiosity. “And you don’t pretend to be me.”

“Trust me, mate, the couple times I tried? Not my best work.”

Amaya raises her cup to her lips, shaking her head. After a sip, she says, “Every time I think life is as strange as it can get, something proves me wrong.”

“That mean you’re not mad?”

“I’m the protector of one small village in 1945.” She smiles. “I think the world has room enough for the both of us.”

Charlie grins again.

“So what is all of this about?” Amaya turns her attention back to the three of them at large. “Is the team in some sort of trouble?”

“Oh! No.” Zari shakes her head. “We want to go flying.”

Amaya frowns. “Flying?”

Ten minutes later, Charlie guns the jumpship’s engine. With a muted rumble, they leave behind the shadowed grasses of Zambesi for the toxic green of the temporal zone. Charlie punches a few buttons, setting in a course. Giving a loose, satisfied exhale, she leans back, kicking her legs up on the control panel. Her hair, braided on one side with electric blue highlights and fluffing out in tight curls on the other, shifts with the movement.

Kendra glances from her to Amaya, who’s strapped in to her left. The latter sits with her feet set on the floor, exposed lines of her shoulders well-toned and prepared. She’d taken off her gele before coming with them. Now a few looser curls frame her face, pulled back into a low bun at the back of her head. Her gaze is steady and even keeled.

Where Charlie has dark lipstick, Amaya has natural color. Where Amaya has gold hoops, complementing her sleeveless autumn-toned dress, Charlie has silver studs that match her black and metal choker. A small smile, both amused and bemused; an easy, lax grin. Jocular, sloped shoulders; a warrior’s posture.

Kendra sees now why Charlie would’ve had so much trouble impersonating Amaya. The _Parent Trap_ twins, they could pass as. The same person? Not a chance. Aside from their unfairly attractive facial features, they share about as much in common as salt and pepper.

“So…” Zari says, from Amaya’s other side. “This is going to sound, like, insane. But I think my alternate timeline self had…” She pooches her lips, as if swishing the words around and tasting them before she says them. “A thing with you.”

Amaya tilts her head. “What?”

Charlie crows out a laugh.

In Kendra’s very tired opinion, ‘my alternate timeline self had a fling with you’ sounds like a Legends’ Tuesday.

Zari explains: “Before the Legends changed the timeline at Heyworld, there was a different version of me on the team instead of my br– instead of Behrad. She’s, mmm, droll and angry and has poor fashion taste, but she’s really badass.” She holds up her wrist, showcasing the magical amulet that Kendra’s been told is the air totem. “She lives in here now. She contacts me sometimes, or gives me magical hacking juju. And when our totems did whatever sparkly thing they did, she was sending me some all-caps psychic DMs.”

Amaya’s mouth twitches. “I didn’t follow all of that, but if what you’re saying is true….” She eyes Zari for long enough to make the woman flush. “I think we went well together.”

Zari stares at her. Her lips shape words, once, twice, but she never manages to get sound out.

Finally, Kendra takes pity on her. “This is nice,” she says. “Us, I mean. Back when I was on the team, Sara and I were the only girls, and Jax and I were the only people of color. Trust me, I had a _lot_ of white dude feelings to deal with.”

Amaya nods. “Until Behrad and Wally, it was just also just me and Jax. And it was always just me and Sara. I learned the terms _white fragility_ and _mansplaining_ pretty quickly.”

“Now there’s, what, four of you?” Kendra looks to Zari and Charlie. “Women, I mean?”

Charlie winces. “Ah…hate to dint your little girl power moment, but I’m not a woman.”

Shame rushes through Kendra’s chest—shame at presuming, shame for getting it wrong, shame for making Charlie feel like she—she?—needs to explain. They never had this conversation in Ancient Egypt, they had different cultural understandings and language and also never _needed_ to have this conversation. “Oh,” she says, hugging herself. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s alright,” Charlie says. “No worries, seriously. It’s brilliant that there are lots of women on the Waverider now. Zari, Sara, Mona, Ava, Astra. Even Nora pops in every once in a while.”

Kendra nods, still hung up on Charlie’s correction. “Wh–what pronouns do you use?”

Charlie smiles. “Any.”

“Any?”

“Use whatever’s convenient, doesn’t matter to me.”

Kendra must still look confused, because Charlie goes on.

“Look, I’ve been breaking stupid rules and screwing people’s expectations of me for as long as I’ve been around. Which, like you, is an awful long time. If people call me _she_ , then I screw their rules by not always dressing or behaving or having bits the way they think a woman should. If people call me _he_ , then I blow their rules by not always dressing or behaving or looking the way they think a bloke should. And if people call me something else like they or xe, then I’m wrecking the rules by screwing over the whole human construct of binary gender. Win-win-win.” She spreads her arms. “I’m uncategorizable, mate. Not a box I won’t break.”

Kendra smiles, tentatively. “That’s…a really cool way of looking at things.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m pretty cool.”

“Mm,” says Zari. “And modest….”

“Always,” Charlie agrees.

“Oh, wow,” says Amaya, not talking to any of them. She stares out the window.

Below them, stretching as far as Kendra’s exceptional eyesight can see, spreads a vast tapestry of sand, darkness, and stars.

-

“Moment of truth,” Charlie says.

The four of them stand on the roof of the jumpship, looking out into the desert surrounding the ancient city of Itjtawy. Dark blue sky, untroubled by light pollution, blooms like the underbelly of a massive umbrella around them. The spilled-salt flakes of the Milky Way gleam in a long gash to one side. On Charlie’s left dangles the brilliant white moon, neatly cleaved in two by the earth’s shadow. Cool wind nips at any exposed skin.

“I didn’t know the sky could…do this,” murmurs Zari, wide-eyed. She lifts her phone to take a photo.

Amaya looks at her. “Seriously?”

Zari raises her eyebrows. “I need a new lockscreen background, and I can’t be expected to pass this up.”

“Alright,” Charlie says, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. She likes these people and she likes this sky and her chest aches to do something loose and wild and free just for the bloody hell of it. “Ready?”

Wings burst from Kendra’s back, bigger even than Charlie remembers. “Ready,” she agrees.

Zari stares at _her_ now, the view forgotten. “Hello?”

Kendra smiles. “Why did you think I was called Hawkgirl?”

“I didn’t _know_ you were called… Oh. This is why Mick calls you Birdie, isn’t it.”

“Ugh, he still says that?”

Amaya smiles. “Rory does love his nicknames.” She raises an admiring hand to Kendra’s wings, centimeters away but not touching. “These are beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Kendra says. She shoots an amused look at Charlie, like the many Chay-ara used to send Clotho across echoing ceremonial halls.

Charlie grins back. Screwing up her face, she feels heat spike through her as the particles of her body scramble and her back begins to pucker. With the satisfying feeling not unlike finally being able to clear a magnificent burp, giant bat wings extend from her shoulder blades, silver clawed and leathery and black as pitch.

“Whoa,” Zari says. “ _Whoa_.”

“You like ‘em?”

Blinking, recovering some of her usual unimpressed glam attitude, she tips her chin up. “More goth than punk. Clashes with your look.”

“Aw, come on, Z! You totally love it.”

“So, how do I, um, use this thing to fly, exactly?” Zari says, turning to Amaya instead of trying to deny Charlie’s words. She holds up her wrist, showcasing the red gemstone.

Amaya considers. “I’m not sure. This is how I do it.” She presses the amulet around her neck—the Anansi totem, right, yeah—and the blue shape of an owl swells around her. With a confident leap, she jumps off the ship’s roof, glowing owl wings giving one powerful flap before dissipating. Amaya soars in a wide arc, powerful and controlled and _wow_ , if Charlie looks even half that good then she’s the luckiest bastard this side of the Nile.

Zari, lips parted as she tracks Amaya’s flight path, seems to agree.

Amaya’s feet sound a hollow gong against the jumpship as she lands. She grins at them, and it’s not quite as broad as the ones Charlie sees in the mirror, but it’s plenty playful enough for Charlie to like it. 

“Brilliant!” she says, clapping Amaya on the back.

“That was cool,” Kendra agrees.

“Yeah…” Zari looks at her wrist doubtfully. “I don’t think this thing does,” she wiggles her fingers, “that.”

“Probably not.” Amaya eyes the red gem. “When Behrad would use the air totem to fly, he would pull a kind of twister around himself to lift him up.”

“Maybe Z 1.0 can help you figure that out?” Charlie suggests. “Y’know, give ya a few pointers.”

“Maybe,” says Zari.

“No matter what happens,” Kendra says. “We’ll be right here to catch you.”

Zari shoots her a grateful look. “Okay,” she says. She pushes her shoulders back, twisting them side to side like she’s preparing for a red-carpet event. “Let’s do this.”

Her totem shines, a lit flare in the darkness. Wind begins to rush around their ankles, then their thighs.

Charlie lets out a whoop. Catching Kendra by the hand, she pulls her forward, towards the edge. “Geronimo!”

The two of them leap off, just like old times. Their wings beat powerfully enough to make the dark sand swirl beneath them, at least until they get more altitude. The cold desert air stings their faces. Charlie whoops again. _This_ is freedom. Letting go of Kendra’s hand, she flips herself over into a dizzying series of barrel rolls, boasting her bat-winged maneuverability.

“We get it!” Kendra calls, but she’s laughing.

Charlie flips around to check in on Zari. Red-tinted air, whipped like cream into a mini whirlwind, spouts beneath her, pushing her twenty feet above where they’d been standing. She wobbles there, curls fanned back and eyes wide. Amaya, the last flicker of a hummingbird spirit fading from her chest, hovers beside her, watching her kindly.

“Oh my god,” Zari says.

“Onya, Z!” Charlie cheers. “You’re doing it!”

“Am I? This feels like barely not falling.”

“You’re in control,” counsels Amaya. “You just need to believe it.”

“Control.” Zari closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, like she’s at some kind of moneybags meditation retreat. “I am in…control.”

“Where’d you pick her up?” Kendra asks quietly, reappearing at Charlie’s side. Their wings beat in time. “She seems a little…outside the normal Legends budget.”

Charlie shakes her head. “Z’s got the fire. The thousand-dollar nailjob, yeah, sure—but also the fire.”

“Have you two…”

“Nah, not yet. Just flirting. Why? You jealous?”

Kendra gives her a look. “You wish.”

Charlie grins. “Guilty.” She looks back to where Zari is tentatively moving herself in modest circles. “What’d you say we have some real fun?”

“What do you mean?”

Charlie winks and swoops forward, taking hold of Zari’s wrist and pulling her along.

“Charlie!” Zari shrieks. “Too fast! Let go!”

“You’re completely safe, Z! Promise.” She tugs her into a coasting soar, which Zari’s air cushion contorts to accommodate. “C’mon, you can’t enjoy all of this by sitting still.”

Amaya and Kendra catch up, flanking them on each side.

“There you go, Z,” Charlie says. “You’re getting the hang of it!”

Zari laughs, gaining confidence. After they cover a few hundred more feet of sand, she lets go of Charlie’s hand.

Amaya smiles at her. “Good job.”

Zari gives the cutest little self-satisfied smile back.

Charlie looks around at them, all flying and smiling. “Race ya!” she shouts, her voice crisp in the night. “First one to that big tomb and back wins!”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, folks! if u liked it (or even if u didn't lmao) please consider visiting [this](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/?fbclid=IwAR3mLaKEA_Pz7gYHQTa77JT6oKymfzE9dd79z12ihmcJH1UKDuporzqbEdg) list of Black Lives Matter resources. there are creative donation resources even if you don't have traditional funds! happy juneteenth <3


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